


A Traditional Breeding

by BabaTunji



Series: ABO Wakanda [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alpha Erik Killmonger, Breeding, Cousin Incest, Intersex Character, Lactation Kink, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mommy Kink, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega T’Challa, Partial Mind Control, age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-26 13:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabaTunji/pseuds/BabaTunji
Summary: N’Jadaka agrees to a traditional breeding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted breeding kink so I wrote it. Don’t take this seriously it’s my doomed attempt at pwp. Omega T’Challa/Alpha Erik.
> 
> Erik is 33 and T’Challa is 40.
> 
> Playlist  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/1278819366/playlist/4MxHn76zGSo7lVu40j4FKY?si=-WOVp6MtSgSsRbrNk2Yi3w  
> Song that goes with this:  
> Wetlands by Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith  
> 

Wet season in Wakanda, gives the gifts of heat and humidity. N’Jadaka is uncomfortably aware of that as he makes his way through the capital. It’s evening time and while the air is cooler the humidity is omnipresent. He’s dressed light in one of his favorite dhoti-style pants and not much else. He’s already been warned that whatever he wears probably wouldn’t survive the night and he's running late. 

As he walks, some of the people he passes greet him. He doesn’t pay them much mind beyond a nod or a look. One of the vendors selling sweet things yells an innuendo his way. Something about his outfit and he walks faster. He wouldn’t full on run till he was out of the main district. He had his pride. This time of year, everyone it seems already know his intent and destination. It makes the fact he’s running late a bit more embarrassing. His reason for being late is unsurprisingly tradition. His aunt had insisted on last minute preparation that had eaten up time and left him panicking... silently.

He’s only been in Wakanda for 4 years yet it’s hard now, to remember his life before. Shuri said it might be due to his literal resurrection, memories affected, world shift etc. He figures it's because he is finally doing what he’d worked towards his whole life. Maybe not the way he’d originally planned but he’s rolling with it.

When he reaches the edge of the merchant district he starts to run. Up till then he’s been speed walking, it feels freeing to let his own panic show. Silently he curses Wakandan ritual and tradition. He should have known, when he’d agreed it’d be some fuckshit. Though to be honest when his cousin had approached him he’d been flattered more than anything. Aroused too, the Omega was a wet dream. His age only making him more attractive to the younger Alpha.

He hadn’t fortunately for the older Omega known what went into a ‘traditional’ breeding. Otherwise he probably would have said no. Now two months, four trials and an embarrassing physical later, what he’d agreed to is finally happening. 

If he made it to the clearing in time. Because taking a transport was for people not currently proving, repeatedly, their virility to Wakanda’s King Omega. 

He sees the ceremonial flag before anything else. His lungs are burning but he powers through it. His run was approximately 5 kilometers not counting his embarrassing speed walk through the capital. He sprints the last 100 meters entering the clearing. 

He’s breathing hard, and doesn’t even try to hide it. He can feel eyes on him. Waiting. Still heaving he takes a knee, he hasn’t caught sight of his aunt or baby cousin, but he picks out the River Tribe Council Elder and his Alpha among the crowd. Everyone who was anyone had really shown out for this glorified fuckfest. The thought makes him want to laugh, even as a voice in his mind that sounds suspiciously like his aunt tells him to be serious. 

When he feels like he can talk without throwing up his guts, he gives the greeting he’s spent the last 2 weeks crafting, in Wakandan.

There’s a long moment after, and he starts to sweat. Even more than he already was after his sprint. His greeting wasn’t the traditional one, he’d tweaked it a bit. Finally, a voice responds, his aunt. She sounds ... amused. He knows that now, after spending more time than he’s ever done before with her in the past few months. 

When she bids him to, He stands, rolling his shoulders settling into the warrior’s stance. This part was gonna suck. His aunt speaks one more time and then it’s free for all. Two Dora Milaje come straight for him, the third flanking. 

He thinks, weaving around their frontal assault, this had been a lot easier with the herb. The fight goes on for minutes. He gets a particularly hard hit to the side of his face but gets one of the Dora in the gut. 

She gets up but it’s shaky. He remembers her from a training simulation a year ago, she’d been bad at guarding her right then too. 

The fight ends not long after, the goal being to restrain not kill. Though If the Dora’s attacks carry extra venom he doesn’t fault them. His position as the Golden Jaguar was reliant on his ability as a trained operative and his cousin’s good will. He doesn’t expect to be well liked. Even now he knows his cousin's decision aren’t ... uncontested. But he was who he was, royal blood and all. He’s had time to come to terms with being a tool. His cousin makes it easy, most days.

When the Dora fall back, he lets his guard drop again. There’s some more ceremony to be done he knows and he tunes out for most of it. Says the words his aunt had drilled into him the past month and goes through the motions. He gets why Wakanda did what they did. The rituals were good for reinforcing the rhetoric of their culture, structure and all that. Comforting especially in times of unrest. Like now. 

T’Challa joins them during the hand-fasting portion. The Alpha immediately hones in on the older Omega’s scent. It’s strong, ridiculously so. The Omega was dangerously close to his heat, and he looks dazed. Whatever tools they’ve been using to cover his scent earlier had to have been working overtime. The Omega sits across from him, and the Alphas’ eyes focus intently on the man’s face. Going any lower would be unwise, especially when the Omega was wearing less than he was, and his scent so enticingly close.

Internally N’Jadaka also breathes a sigh of relief. There had been the possibility that they would not be compatible or react badly to each other’s heat scents. Thankfully that did not seem to be the case. Not if his growing arousal and his cousin’s covert scenting is any indication. His cousin looks tired but the smile he gives N’Jadaka is warm. 

He wasn’t the only being put through the ringer of tradition and ritual. He returns the gesture with his own, all teeth and signature smirk, watching the Omega’s reaction. The exasperation is familiar, but the older man’s scent flares up in response and N’Jadaka looks away grinning. 

The ceremony continues, more words are said and then T’Challa is handed a cup. The Omega’s large hands could probably hold it in one hand but tradition says two so he holds it with both hands. The Alpha moves closer and waits. The Omega speaks first, a contract in blood. The request to sire and protect. The Alpha responds, affirming the agreement. His cousin’s hands are shaking minutely as he holds the cup to his lips. The concoction tastes disgusting, like the herb had. Some herb was probably in the drink too.

Then it’s over, and they are alone. 

The heat in his belly rises and It gets harder to breathe. Definitely some sort of aphrodisiac in that cup. T’Challa speaks and it takes N’Jadaka a moment to understand what he’s saying. 

“I heard your greeting, very inspired.” 

The Alpha hadn’t seen the Omega during his introduction, though he supposed it made sense that the Omega wherever he was heard his greeting. T’Challa is teasing him he knows, but the man had chosen him, not the other way around.

“I didn’t like the traditional one. Didn’t really fit.”

T’Challa nods, and N’Jadaka watches the way the Omega’s head tilts, gaze drifting unbidden to the man’s neck. The Omega stands up, turning towards the corner of the large room. Which makes N’Jadaka realize there’s a bed, in said corner. Belatedly He stands to follow the Omega, his mind feels cloudy but it’s a good kind. He takes his vest shirt off as he moves, his skin feels too tight and the room, too hot. It was cooler when he came in but now he can’t tell.

When N’Jadaka reaches the bed, the older man has settled into a pre-made cocoon of blankets and pillows. T’Challa is wearing a sheer shift, ending at his knees and nothing else. The way he sits is reminiscent of how he’d sit on the throne. The thought doesn’t annoy the Alpha the way it would have before. 

The Omega speaks again, expression playful. “My mother was late as well to her introduction. It’s part of the tradition.” The Alpha hums in acknowledgment, getting on the bed. 

-:-

N’Jadaka is looking at him like he is a piece of meat. It’s both irritating and arousing, his cousin’s fascination. He’s used to being desired, responding to that raw desire with his own especially from his unruly cousin is… new. The young Alpha is not who the council would have chosen for this. But he is who T’Challa wants and that is enough. 

His body feels too hot, though he knows his temperature is dropping, preparing. If they were lucky his heat would break in a day or two, if not it could go on for 4 or 5 days. His cousin draws closer, then stops a short distance away from where T’Challa is settled. N’Jadaka is still wearing the pants he arrived in. It displeases T’Challa. He wants the Alpha naked, he can smell the man’s arousal. He wants to see it.

“Strip.” He commands, eyes going from the man’s lower regions and back to his face. This is familiar. For all their history the younger Alpha took direction well. Flourished under it really. Whether it was his military background or his temperament, T’Challa could only guess.

The young Alpha’s hands go to his hips, and then he shimmies out of his pants.

N’Jadaka isn’t wearing any underwear. Probably for the best, T’Challa is beginning to grow impatient and he doesn’t think the Alpha would move any closer unless he took the lead. The man isn’t shy... just wary.

A thought comes to him and T’Challa sighs, he could only imagine what type of wild things his mother had told the younger Alpha. He pulls at the flimsy cloth he’s been wearing for the past few hours, up and over. There, now they were on more equal footing. 

Still the Omega can’t help but tease the younger man. “Where is that arrogant Alpha who promised to breed me properly?” 

The Alphas eyes narrow, and T’Challa feels a soft gush of slick, as his scent flares in response. 

“Here. You ready? Or you want me to show off some more for you?”

T’Challa fights a laugh, that was one way to describe the two month of trials before the actual breeding. 

“Was it hard for you, ‘showing off’ for me?” He puts emphasis on the words ‘showing off’, watching as the Alpha crawls closer. 

“Nah. Win-Win, Got to make the old farts on your council uncomfortable, and—“ N’Jadaka pauses when their bodies meet.

T’Challa uses the opportunity to grab a handful of his locs, tugging him downwards. To his credit N’Jadaka follows easily, till his head rests in T’Challa’s lap. Where the scent is strongest. The Alphas arms wrap around his torso, and his current position gives T’Challa a great view of his ass. When the man’s hands trail lower T’Challa tugs his hair in warning.

“And?” The Omega prompts, massaging the Alpha’s scalp in consolation. N’Jadaka doesn’t answer immediately and T’Challa can hear him breathing slowly, inhaling the Omega’s scent. When he finally speaks, it’s less composed, more base.

“Get to breed you.” That’s the only warning T’Challa gets before the man surges up, arms wrapping firmly around his waist and turning them over. Their new position has T’Challa lying atop the Alpha, the man’s face still in his crotch area, till he pushes up, lifting the older Omega and prompting T’Challa to release his hair. N’Jadaka pulls him lower till they’re face to face.

T’Challa leans down to scent the man properly, he smells like sweat and jasmine. So he’d gone with a traditional perfumed bath. The Omega wanted to know what he smelled like after. This time when the Alpha’s hands travel lower he doesn’t pull away. The younger man is like a furnace under him, his touch burns but the Omega wants more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...this isn’t explicit but I’m  >.> yea. I guess I’m just rolling with this whole... breeding thing. Mind the tags.  
> Song Accompany:  
> Dreamgirl by Tanerelle

“N’Jadaka.”

He hates the way T’Challa says his name. 

Already he can feel his higher brain functions bowing none too gracefully to the older Omega’s strong pheromones. Whatever he’d drunk before probably made it worse.

He is agitated. He wants to submit. Unconsciously N’Jadaka presses nose-first into T’Challa’s neck. 

“Gimme a minute.” He finally chokes out.

This is normal. He’s been prepared. Why is it so hard to breathe? He should pull away from the scent. Clear his head. He can’t pull away. Even tilting his head away seems impossible.

“Peace, cousin.”

T’Challa murmurs into his ear. A hand runs down the side of his face, to the nape of his neck. T’Challa’s voice grounds N’Jadaka.

After a moment, he grinds up. He doesn’t acknowledge his momentarily lapse of control.

Already his arousal is leaking, and the Omega’s answering slick scents like a beacon. He wants to taste. 

“Wanna eat you out.” His face is still buried in the Omega’s neck but T’Challa hears him just fine.

“Is that all?” The teasing is back. 

Finally he pulls away from the Omega’s neck. He doesn’t ask before he pushes up then pulls the Omega bodily forward. Bringing the man’s lower body closer to his face.

“Sit on my face, Kumkani.”

T’Challa doesn’t respond, not till his cunt is inches above the Alpha’s head. N’Jadaka grips the Omega’s hips, pulling him lower him until the man is settled comfortable on his face.

There is no more teasing.

The next time the Omega calls his name, it’s lower, less controlled. 

“N’Jadaka.”

He loves the way T’Challa says his name.

-:-

It’s been 2 days. T’Challa feels sore all over yet insatiate.

N’Jadaka sleeps lightly besides him. The young Alpha has knotted him several times in the past 30 hours alone and T’Challa is not yet carrying. 

The first few times had been an exploration. It would have been highly unlikely for him to quicken from them. But all too soon hours turn into 2 days and he is still not carrying. 

He tells himself this is to be expected. He’s of mating age yes, but on the higher end. The less fecund end. Perhaps if he had allowed himself to be bred when most King Omegas took breeding Alpha’s, he wouldn’t be so worried now.

Naming his worry for what it is, it’s demoralizing. They have time. Yet T’Challa feels irrationally agitated. Carefully he tamps down on the emotion. Before N’Jadaka can sense it. The breeding ritual has opened a connection between them. Useful for directing Alphas in rut, but also dangerous for overwhelming them.

When he checks on his cousin, the man is still sleeping. In the light of the afternoon he looks younger. Life had not been kind to his cousin, yet he stood. Appearing unperturbed and unaffected. Cocky smile in place, quip or joke at the ready. Easy to anger and even easier to violence. 

N’Jadaka belongs to him. 

T’Challa imagines in another life they might have had an easier time of it. He knows he would have doted on the young Alpha, taken care of him. Might even have mated him once he was off age. But In this one, they’re not mated. They’re cousins learning to be, and not always allies. A King Omega and his breeding Alpha.

In this life N’Jadaka is bound to him by their fathers’ own deeds. In this life neither of them really were given a chance to choose. T’Challa will never truly understand the forces that have driven his cousin for so long. Did not grow up in a world apart, did not have his home denied to him yet be too foreign for the one known to him. 

He cannot undo the past. But he’s making a conscious decision to change the future. He cannot make Wakanda love his cousin. Cannot undo damage already done, bridges burnt and trauma long since set. But he can provide N’Jadaka with everything he needs. Give him the tools to change the world, Create a better semblance of home. 

Unconsciously his hands go to his belly. The re-merging of the Udaku line is something that he wants very badly. He’s read enough history to know these rifts must be fixed immediately and if left to chance could easily tear apart a dynasty. T’Challa had the choice to kill his cousin. To let him die. He chose not to. Now he intends to mend what his father has left him.

If only his body would co-operate. 

N’Jadaka stirs and T’Challa watches him wake. The Alpha comes awake like his jaguar moniker would, sly and near silent. The man sits up gingerly and T’Challa fights a smirk. He isn’t the only one sore. 

“Have you eaten?” N’Jadaka’s voice is rough with sleep.

“I have. Will you eat now?” T’Challa is careful to keep his words a request and not a command. As they were now the Alpha was compelled to serve him. 

The Alpha doesn’t respond immediately, stretching languidly.

“I don’t like the fruit.” T’Challa nods in understanding. His cousin had never taken to certain Wakandan foods, and the fruit had been chosen for their nutrition and fertility aspects. They were also heavily mutated, and thus strongly disliked by the young Alpha.

“There is cream in the lounge, it will mask the taste.” Again, he leaves the decision to his cousin. 

The Alpha pulls a face. Then he draws closer. N’Jadaka reaches carefully for T’Challa’s throat.

“Feed me.”

Is that all you want?  
The thought comes to T’Challa though he stops himself before he can say them out loud. 

“If you want me to feed you, then you’ll have to bring the fruit to me.”

N’Jadaka hums in acknowledgment. The fingers massaging T’Challa’s throat trail down. T’Challa allows the Alpha to touch. This is their first true moment of respite since his heat began. The Alpha’s hands stop at his right nipple. Drawing lazy circles before pinching lightly. 

Soft sparks of pleasure shoot through T’Challa. The heat made the area sensitive. Pregnancy would only increase that sensitivity.

“You plan on using these?”

T’Challa leans back. 

“Breastfeeding is recommended.” T’Challa has met male Omegas with sizable breasts before pregnancy. He himself presented masculine, being flat chested helped.

“Do you want to?” The Alpha’s question is innocuous even as he abuses T’Challa’s nipples.

T’Challa thinks on the question. N’Jadaka wants something. But he would not come out and say it. T’Challa is feeling less and less patient so he cuts any pretense.

“Will you eat something?” 

N’Jadaka will not meet his eyes, gaze fixed to T’Challa’s chest. 

Sighing, T’Challa pulls the Alpha’s fingers away.

“Bring the fruit, and the cream please.” The Alpha moves reluctantly. When he returns, fruit and cream in hand, the heat in T’Challa’s belly makes itself known once more.

Brusquely, T’Challa takes the offering. He knows their lucid time is now limited. As his scent demanded his Alpha’s attention once more. 

“During pregnancy, lactation is not unusual.”

Carefully he dips the sliced fruit into the thick cream. When he offers the fruit, balanced above the container of cream and platter of fruit, to N’Jadaka; the Alpha doesn’t move. 

T’Challa forces his irritation down at the Alpha’s stubbornness. He knows better, his cousin has never done anything the easy way. 

“Some lactate so much it becomes not just uncomfortable but distracting.”

He dips the fruit once more in the cream then carefully moves the dripping fruit to himself. Taking a bite. Some of the cream dribbling lazily down his chest.

N’Jadaka’s gaze follows the cream as it runs down.

“Child, will you eat?” T’Challa watches the way the Alpha’s eyes dilate and knows he has him.

When the Alpha leans closer, T’Challa is not at all surprised that he bypasses the fruit entirely to lick the cream off T’Challa’s skin. 

N’Jadaka’s lips trails up to his nipple and the Omega presses the half-eaten fruit to the Alpha’s lips. 

-:-


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik pov. I cant write porn but i tried. Shout out to galaxiaa7 for writing/betaing with me while i whined >_<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Accompany: Summer by THE CARTERS

-:-

N’Jadaka eats the fruit. The cream does mask the taste, and the way T’Challa looks at him when he accepts each piece of fruit is a different sort of consolatory prize. The sounds T’Challa makes when he bites his nipple also helps. Sometimes he gets carried away and the Omega pulls back; Tells him, “Eat, child.”

That’s when T’Challa’s scent flares the most, which is rewarding enough that he eats some more. Until the King is satisfied. After, N’Jadaka takes the empty platter and the container of cream, returning both to their proper place.

When he returns to the bed, T’Challa is leaning, eyes closed against the heap that used to be his heat nest. They’ve since unraveled it and now it’s scattered or piled in different places on the bed. He should remake it but all he wants to do is bury himself in familiar heat. Still he says,

“Your nest.”

T’Challa opens his eyes slowly. He looks drowsy but N’Jadaka knows better. He can sense the restless energy emanating from the older Omega. 

“Is fine. Join me.”

Later, N’Jadaka will wonder why he does what he does but in the moment, it feels natural.

“No. We gotta set up your nest or you’ll be cranky after.” It’s been a few times since their first time, he knows this.

T’Challa doesn’t take his denial too well. The drowsy look disappears and there’s something else in his eyes. The Omega crawls purposefully towards the edge of the bed.

“After. I want you to join me.” That weird tone is back, and N’Jadaka can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine. But the compulsion is missing. So, he walks casually up to the bed. Let’s the Omega come real close, and fuck if T’Challa isn’t giving him a nice view and those gorgeous bedroom eyes. Why aren’t they already fucking?

But he can feel the weird energy, knows instinctively he needs to do this. T’Challa isn’t pregnant yet; they have time.

When T’Challa is within touching distance N’Jadaka pulls gently but quickly on the blanket underneath him. The Omega reacts but not fast enough and he efficiently wraps the man in the warm blanket. The Omega struggles, annoyance clear but N’Jadaka pins him firmly. For the duration of the breeding they were both without the herb, for obvious reasons.

If they were mates, N’Jadaka might have kissed him; Gentled him properly. But they’re not and he’s acting as a breeding Alpha would. He nips the skin of T’Challa’s neck and covers the Omega with his own body. Waits till T’Challa stops struggling.

They’re both still lucid, and he needs to fix the nest. So that’s what he does. He thinks the older Omega is a bit more gone than he is because T’Challa doesn’t try and distract him while he works. His heat scent is stronger now but the Omega is oddly quiet.

N’Jadaka doesn’t remember what the nest looked like at first, so he remakes it like he’s been taught.

When he’s done he crawls back to the Omega, lifts and sets him down in the middle of the mesh of fabric and cloth. T’Challa gives him a look. The same look he gave when he called N’Jadaka, “Child.” It makes him feel like ... fuck. He’s not going down that train of thought.

“Do you like it?” The confidence he felt remaking the heat nest is replaced by newfound uncertainty.

T’Challa wiggles, still wrapped tightly in the blanket then rolls till he’s seated. The motion should be comical but T’Challa makes it look graceful. The Omega takes the time to survey N’Jadaka’s handiwork.

“It’s good.” The teasing voice is back. N’Jadaka had spent time learning different styles for this. He knew it was good, even if he’d made it under the weird haze T’Challa’s presence puts him in.

“Just good?” He’s untying the blanket now.

Once his hands are free T’Challa wraps them around the Alpha; pulling the rest of his body into N’Jadaka’s lap.

“Very good.” T’Challa makes a show of pulling the rest of the blanket from his lower torso.

“Now. Let us take care of this.” The Omega doesn’t break eye contact even as he wraps a hand around the Alpha’s erection; standing stiff between their bodies.

T’Challa strokes him like they have all the time in the world. It feels good, to have the Omega’s hands on him, like they were... lovers.

Which they weren’t. T’Challa didn’t belong to him. Not in any way that mattered. The thought makes something in him turn. The warm languid feelings dissipate and he pulls T’Challa’s hand away. The Omega makes a soft disgruntled sound but doesn’t struggle when the Alpha rearranges them.

Their new position sets T’Challa on his stomach against cushions, legs spread, in a traditional Omegan arch. The sight makes N’Jadaka groan and he adjusts the older Omegas hips, pulling him closer.

He’s yet to knot T’Challa in the traditional breeding position. The first few times even if they started in this position, which they usually didn’t; They always faced each other when his knot begins to form.

N’Jadaka presses his arousal against wet folds. T’Challa pushes back almost immediately retaining his arch but insistent.

The first time, he ate T’Challa out till he came, and then T’Challa got impatient and fucked himself on the Alpha’s cock. N’Jadaka had been expecting it, but he still came embarrassingly fast; T’Challa, riding his second orgasm in an hour had looked so fucking satisfied, knotted and bound in Alpha’s lap.

The second time, they’d been facing each other and the Alpha had just... slid in. The next few times had gone on longer but ended the same way each time. Facing each other, T’Challa taking his knot each time with such ... grace. Who even looked graceful taking cock? T’Challa did.

But he doesn’t want that this time. Doesn’t want to see how T’Challa’s eyes tear up at the stretch, or the bulge that forms when N’Jadaka knots him. This is breeding. Nothing more.

“N’Jadaka.”

T’Challa sounds annoyed. The Alpha responds by pressing more intently at the Omega’s cunt. Allows the wetness to surround the crown of his cock, then pulls back out.

“Yes, T’Challa?” He’s going for nonchalance but there’s an edge he can’t quite keep out of his voice.

“Fuck Me.” The Omega punctuates the words with another strategic press against his cock. He’s expecting it though, and restrains the Omega’s movements with one hand on his hip and holds his arousal in the other; Restricting any further movement.

“Already have. But that’s not what you need right now is it?”

He lets go of his arousal and pushes his thumb past engorged folds and into wet heat. At the same time, he leans down, draping his own body against the Omega’s back and grabs for the back of the Omega’s neck; pressing him down. Till his forehead touches the bed.

T’Challa arches his back further, a low whine emanating from his chest.

“What do you need T’Challa?” He presses another finger into the Omega. T’Challa tries in vain to spread his legs wider. He leans close enough to nip at the Omega’s ear.

“Use your words.” The Omega whines again but doesn’t answer.

He turns his wrist, and inserts a third finger; gives a few pumps.

“You want me to breed you right? Not fuck you. Breed you.” T’Challa rocks with his hand but that soft whine is his only answer. Its grating. He wants the Omega. All of him and not this play acting at submission.

“I...want...you” T’Challa could barely manage to say between moans.

“You sure about that?”

“Breed me, or so help me Bast I will have another Alpha brought to me!” T’Challa’s voice has gone low by the end. The Alpha pulls his fingers away, and allows the Omega to lift his torso up from the bed. Watches T’Challa slide away, actually lets the Omega think for a second he would let go.

Then he’s reaching, faster than T’Challa can jump away for the Omega’s shoulder. Pulling him with strength back to the heat of the nest he’s made. He pins T’Challa on the bed, T’Challa tries to fight him, but he bears down; chest to the Omega’s back. The Omega doesn’t stop struggling till he gives a warning bite to his throat. The words he’s been thinking for months come back to him.

“You chose me, right? I didn’t choose for you.” His question is met with silence.

He turns the Omega’s body so he can see his face, looking in his eyes, and says again.

“You chose me. You wanted me, to breed you. Wanted me, N’Jadaka. Erik Stevens. Killmonger to father your children. No one else.”

T’Challa reaches, almost hesitantly for his face. He fights the urge to pull away. He doesn’t like the look in T’Challa’s eyes. The Omega is always so sincere, even if it means nothing in the long run.

“I did. I chose you. I want you to give me children.”

Is that all you want? 

The Alpha doesn’t voice the thought, holding T’Challa’s gaze. He doesn’t want to know; not anymore. He’s reminded of what he should be doing when the smell of T’Challa’s slick hits him again. The scent invades his senses, the need to breed the Omega overwhelming.

This time, the Omega doesn’t move away and the Alpha doesn’t tease.

Repositioning both of them, he lifts powerful hips to recreate the proper breeding position before sliding into tight heat. The head of his cock catching on the Omega’s cunt before he slides in all the way.

T’Challa lets out a strangled moan that fades into an Omegan purr. The Alpha forces himself to stay still. Give the Omega time to adjust to the intrusion, there’d been blood the first time. He leans down to stroke T’Challa and waits for the Omega to push back on the cock impaling him.

“Getting tired Kumkani?” He talks to distract himself but T’Challa surprises him by responding.

“It has been two days, child.” The endearment makes him flush, he doesn’t usually think about the difference in age between them. T’Challa isn’t old enough to be his mom. Not really. But he’s still older and N’Jakaka is balls deep anyway. And if he has to admit it, he enjoys hearing it.

Finally, T’Challa rocks back, and the Alpha lets out a groan.

He takes his time as he pulls out; Lets T’Challa feel all of him before he thrusts back in. The Omega retains his arch, but there's new tremors in his back and the sound he makes… Fuck.

The Alpha settles into a rhythm, both his hands gripping T’Challa’s hips. Knotting feels like an afterthought and he’s lost in the sensation. T’Challa takes him so well, leaning into each thrust, responding with increasing volume. 

His grips on T’Challa’s hips tightens as the pleasure from tight wet heat mingles with the omega’s moans. The frantic energy from before is missing now so he goes slow and deep. The scent of slick adds to his heat haze, T’Challa is so responsive, so wet. For him.

As his knot starts to form at the base of his cock; His rhythm changes and he can’t keep the nice push and pull from before. He changes the angle with shorter thrusts, pressing longer so T’Challa takes a little more of him each time.  
He hits an angle that makes the Omega un-arch and he grins, grinding down nice and slow. He knows T’Challa can take it even if he whines so loudly. Still he can’t help but tease, after he drapes himself on the Omega’s back;

“ ‘M yours right?” He slows his next thrust so T’Challa can respond. T’Challa takes some time and N’Jadaka wonders if he’s forgotten what he said in the haze of heat. He knows T’Challa hasn’t when the Omega tells him almost exasperated;

“Would anyone else dare?” The words don’t satisfy the Alpha, true as they might be.

“No one else.” It isn’t enough to father T’Challa’s children. He wants to be the only one.

He can’t thrust in as deep anymore and he knows he needs to be careful as his knot expands. T’Challa rocks with him and he feels a new wave of pleasure watching the way the Omega accepts more of him each time.

As his knot expands to its full size he presses more insistently, adjusting his angle to fit a bit more. T’Challa squirms under him as if he’s trying to get away, so the Alpha slows down and allows the Omega to adjust his arch. When T’Challa pushes back insistently against his growing knot, he growls. He has a short window of time to get his entire knot in the Omega, he’d panicked the first time, hence the blood.

He doesn’t panic this time and when his entire knot pushes past wet muscle, T’Challa rewards him with another Omegan purr.

“Such a good Alpha.”

T’Challa sounds tired but content, his arch now relaxed as he adjusts his feet and torso for the duration of the knotting.

N’Jadaka wishes he could see his face, settling for rubbing slow circles on the Omega’s back.

When his knot goes down entirely he pulls out gently, ready with nearby towels in hand to clean the mess of come and fluid. T’Challa collapses fully on the bed and N’Jadaka moves to his side. Carefully he pulls the Omega so he can tie a towel low on his waist then arranges the nest around them both. He lets his eyes close in light sleep, the two of them lying side by side. 

The next time T’Challa speaks, his scent has changed. His slow smile makes something in the alpha relax. His omega was satisfied. 

“You belong to me. There will be no one else.”

He thinks of an empire growing every day, children with his drive and T’Challa’s grace, incestuous family tree and all. He smiles wide, pressing closer to the omega. 

“Oh yeah? Gonna need you to prove it.”

They both need proper baths, not a quick wipe down with warm towels and to eat something that's not the heat approved fare of the past 2 days; But the breeding part at least is done. Fuck, they're gonna be parents. 

-:-


End file.
